And You Let Her Go
by clarabranson
Summary: Clara Branson is the 8th Horcrux. When Dumbledore asks Severus Snape to kill his love, it is nearly all he can bear. Severus is wrong about one thing, he does love her. SSxOC oneshot OOC Severus Snape


"What else must I do for you-?"

Snape sounded exasperate, his eyes tired and soul drained. Trying to save Harry, stop Voldemort, not get caught as a double agent. And somewhere- much further and distant- he was trying to keep the students from joining the Dark Lord. And thoughts of those students brought up the fact his desk was piled high with tests, exams, and reports. One day he'd have to play the role of a teacher outside of class.  
"You wished to protect Harry Potter. For Lily."  
"But she- Dumbledore, she's the only one I have anymore. You can't-..."  
"I can. Do you wish to protect Lily's son? To protect what she died doing?"  
Snape knew he was playing in Dumbledore's hand. He knew all those tricks though they kept being used over and over again. And they always worked. His heart still had the same weaknesses.  
How many times had he fought tears while leaning against that wall before the man he was giving his life to? How many times had he looked up and saw Lily playing with his mind, Harry and so many other twirling and twisting his thoughts. How many times had he felt disgusted with himself to disregard his life for the child of the man who made his life miserable?  
"Yes."  
Snape's word was soft, as if he had been physically tortured and that's all that remained. One breath of air to be shared. 'Lily,' he thought, 'Lily, Lily, Lily'. Could he even still claim her as his love? That was what was etched into his heart. Did that make the other his friend? He could tell the difference no more. Nor did it matter.  
"To erase her memories?" Snape managed to croak out one last sentence, and he looked at Dumbledore with one tear wetting his lashes.  
"To kill her."  
Snape tilted his head up and gave a broken and strangled moan of pain. His heart felt like it was gushing blood from all the wrong places, a burning sensation eating away in his chest and stomach, feeling nauseated and discomfort at once. He was a broken man as he stood before Dumbledore. And Dumbledore knew it. In fact, that's the only reason Dumbledore managed to do what he did.

That had been numerous years ago. Since then, Harry Potter passed year after year. Tom Riddle's diary was destroyed. Snape was two steps away from being killed by Death Eaters though he was one. Some guessed he was a double agent. Even Lucius looked at him with suspicion.  
Since then, you and he had become something of lovers. Neither past loves were to be spoken. Lily Evans and Tom Riddle were names now sacred to both of you, neither were to be spoken before anybody else. Not even to yourselves in the dark, or light.

"We need to talk,"  
You glanced up at Snape, he looked tired, ill, truly like he'd fall over. You stood up and lead him to a worn black couch. He sat down, his hand wrapping tightly around your wrist. His nails dug into your flesh and he wasted no time pulling you beside him. He reached out, fingers trembling. He ran cool fingertips down your cheek, his breathing falling heavier.  
"Severus, are you alright?"  
He felt your hands rest on his face, hold his hand back, check to see if he had a fever. He said nothing though, until he saw some love in your eyes. You worked with true concern, sincerity, even some sort of love. He wanted to laugh, if he could. If he didn't feel like he had died. Both of you truly weren't in any form of love. You couldn't be. He loved Lily. You loved Tom.  
"I spoke to Dumbledore-"  
"Will you always follow what he says? It's killing you, Severus. On the inside and outside."  
Snape knew that was the truth, he relished the way your name fell off your lips. You could make it sound so personal, comforting oddly.  
"I will. You know why."  
You gave a slow nod, and Snape pulled his hands away. He wanted a distraction and his eyes were drawn to the stack of papers on his desk. He slowly pulled himself up, his hand sliding past yours once more. He sat down and picked one up. He bitterly tossed Harry's to the back of the pile and picked up Draco. He did the same to that one. He didn't want a single memory to Death Eaters or Lily or Tom Riddle or even you.  
He marked some papers, writing the same scorning messages on most of them. He marked exceptionally lower than the other professors. He ignored your arms around his shoulders or your lips trailing down his neck. He bit his tongue as you marked him slowly, tongue trailing hotly against his flesh. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, tasting blood as he covered up any sounds in his hand and sleeve.  
After a few moments you paused. Just when he reached out for you. He trailed a hand through your hair, his mouth in a firm line. He stroked it before slipping down to his knees and dragging you beneath him. He tasted you, filled you with passion, bit and kissed you. He devoured you, every bit he could.  
His limbs felt weak as he helped you stand up, bringing you to his bed. He collapsed on it next you. His thoughts were in a haze as he placed his wand beneath his pillow. The mere thought of that made him once more kiss you. It was deep and longing, staying for minutes before breaking apart.  
He then laid back on his bed, sweat cooling and lips dry. He watched you fall asleep and closed his eyes briefly. But it wasn't because of sleep. His fingers twisted around the end of his wand, and Lily entered his mind. He would go through this once more.  
He hesitated, the reason unknown to him. He then pulled you into his arms, taking your hair from your face. You curled up around him, sighing in content at feeling him nearby.  
"Avada... kedrava..."  
He dropped his wand, waiting. As if no matter how times he used this method, he expected the victims to wake. You looked like you were sleeping. Your grip loosened, and he felt his heart beat harshly against his chest. Sorrow and regret mixed, and his body trembled. He couldn't bring you back, he wanted this to never had happened.  
He pulled you closer, lips messily touching yours, he closed his eyes and pretended the warmth was still because you were alive, not because it had no time to leave. Tears ran down his cheeks, he apologized over and over like a child. He was disgusted with himself that he would feel this way over killing one simple person.  
He pulled you in close to him, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling the blankets over both of you. He knew he'd wake in the morning to have emotions he couldn't fathom of at the moment. He'd wake to have his heart broken.

The eight Horcrux was destroyed.

But Snape had been wrong. He did love you.


End file.
